


Counterculture

by Inkpress00 (rabidgopher)



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Fluff and Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-03-18
Packaged: 2018-03-12 22:58:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,002
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3358460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rabidgopher/pseuds/Inkpress00
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The 40th century is home to all sorts of things - not the least of which being the resurgence of Earth pop culture. When Rose and the Doctor visit Woodstock's 2000th anniversary, will the festivities proceed without incident?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Cannabis and Mint

**Author's Note:**

> Rating may go up in later chapters ;)

“I was thinking, Doctor,” Rose said over her book. She peered down at the floor, scattered with tiny instruments that apparently fit into the sonic screwdriver. “We never did make it to that concert.”  
  
The Doctor, sprawled out lazily on the floor, answered her without looking up. “Which one, Elvis or Ian Dury?”  
  
Rose took the chance to slowly look him over. It was rare that he’d relax so completely, and she didn’t want to miss a second of it. Plus, his lanky form spread out over the rug in front of the fire made other reasons he would be on the floor spring to mind - more clothes-less reasons. She licked her lips. “Ian Dury.”  
  
He did flick his gaze up then, a dead sexy, mischievous smirk playing over his lips. “Were you not amused by 1879?”  
  
Rose rolled her eyes with a groan that morphed into a laugh. “That was forced and you know it.”  
  
“Weeelll, maybe a little. But really, that turned out fun in the end, didn’t it?” His eyes had reached nearly puppy-dog levels.  
  
“Not that being almost eaten by a werewolf-”  
  
“-Lupine Wavelength Haemovariform-”  
  
“-being knighted, and then getting banished wasn’t amazing an’ all, but it would be fun to actually see some music, dontcha think?”  
  
Had she not been looking at him, Rose probably wouldn’t have heard the smile in his warm voice as he said, “I have just the place, Rose. Tomorrow morning, dress for a concert.”  
  
****  
  
“Woodstock, 3969 - the first time in history where aliens and humans alike celebrate the music of the great human artists of prominence in Earth history.”  
  
Rose grinned and slid her hands up his forearm. “Well, it doesn’t look like Scotland,” she said, unable to hide her glee. “It’s perfect. Thanks.”  
  
He beamed back at her. “Ready?”  
  
Rose pretended to dust herself off and check the hem of her dress as he chuckled. “Ready.”  
  
They ventured into the crowd, wading through vibrantly colored aliens and humans wearing earth toned clothing. “Quite a throwback,” she commented, raising her voice to make it reach the Doctor’s ears, superior hearing or not.  
  
“It’s a very… free time period. Humanity made contact with the stars not too long ago, by comparison, and for many alien cultures, this is almost an acceptance movement.”  
  
“Humans weren’t very popular, then?”  
  
“Lots of peoples considered Earth to be uncultured. Primitive.” He over-enunciated the word in disdain. “Terribly hypocritical, considering how every species starts. Just because humans happened to come along later, doesn’t mean they’re at all inferior.”  
  
Rose’s brow furrowed a little. “That’s not fair,” she muttered.  
  
“No, it is not.” He tapped her forehead. “Resilient little things, you humans are.”  
  
“So this whole movement is like a counterculture uprising, then?”  
  
His mouth quirked into a little crooked smile. “Something like that.”  
  
A towering, long-necked humanoid shoved past Rose roughly. “Oi!” she shouted after him, but he seemed to be absorbed back into the crowd already.  
  
The Doctor slid his arm around her back. “You’ll want to stick close. It’d be very easy to get swept up in the crowd. Also, whatever you do, don’t try anything that’s handed to you.” Rose gave him a look, but he pressed on. “I’m serious. Your body can’t handle the effects of even the human-designed drugs going around now, never mind the alien ones. It might look like normal cannabis, but it is most emphatically not.”  
  
Rose snorted. “Like I’m stupid enough to try any given joint passed to me by a random person. Give me a little more credit, Doctor.”  
  
He had the grace to look a little sheepish. “Sorry, I know. It’s just easy to get swept up in the emotion of the festival.”  
  
“Like you would know,” Rose snorted.  
  
“Er, well…” he averted his gaze to the sky, which seemed to have taken on a smoky haze.  
  
She gaped at him. “You didn’t. Oh my god!”  
  
“Once! And it seemed relatively harmless; I was- well, it was in the name of science!” he asserted triumphantly.  
  
Rose was laughing now. “You tried a random drug that was just handed to you, no questions asked? Blimey, Doctor. They didn't exactly teach how to party safely on Gallifrey, did they?”  
  
“Not the most party-friendly type of people, the Time Lords,” he retorted dryly.  
  
She opened her mouth to reply, but caught sight of the stage and her jaw just sort of stayed open. “Wow,” she finally managed.  
  
‘Huge’ didn’t begin to cover the scale of it. The main platform was made out of some sort of crystal, completely flat and iridescent like Mother-of-Pearl. The secondary platforms, where she assumed the backup dancers and instrument were played, rose organically from the first. The whole thing looked like it’d just risen from the ground, fully formed, like some kind of inanimate, musical Athena.  
  
“I did good, eh?” the Doctor asked cheekily, shoulder checking her gently.  
  
“ _Wow_ ,” she repeated.  
  
“I’ll take that as a yes. Come on, got to get us settled in time for the show.” He laced his fingers with hers and pulled her through the crowd, which seemed to be thickening as they got closer to the stage.  
  
He darted nimbly through the crush, oftentimes barely giving her enough time to make it through the gaps he cleared. “Doctor,” she called, but her voice was drowned out by the noise. It only took a second for her to lose his grip entirely - he slipped between two burly aliens who immediately closed the distance between themselves and began snogging. Unfortunately, she hadn’t quite made it past and her hand was wrenched from his as she crashed into the two amorous reptilians.  
  
With a few profuse apologies, Rose was herded along by the rest of the crowd until she was pressed against the cool side of the crystal stage. Now she was closer, she could see the mechanics of the stage a bit better. There was a large tent in back - really less of a tent and more of huge cloth house - that she supposed the performers lived in. Posted on each side were bouncers, scowling suspiciously at everyone who passed. Rose shimmied around the back of the stage, in-between it and the tent. This area was a blissfully less crowded, and the noise lowered to a more tolerable volume. She pulled out her cell, but bit her lip. Had the Doctor gone back to the TARDIS? If not, there was no point in calling.  
  
She pressed the speed dial button anyway. It rang a few times until it went to the answering machine (And how many times did that make her laugh, that the TARDIS had an answering machine?). She left a halfhearted message, now pretty sure the Doctor was remaining out here somewhere. Sliding her phone back into the pocket of her denim overall dress, Rose scanned the bit of the crowd she could see. It was no use. She’d had no clue where the Doctor was trying to drag her to earlier, and in all of these people, it would be statistically impossible to find him.  
  
All she could really do at this point was to find a good spot and enjoy the music.  
  
A tap on her shoulder made Rose jump. She knew instantly it wasn’t the Doctor; he would have just grabbed her hand or clapped her on the shoulder or something. “Excuse me, miss?”  
  
Rose turned to see the person. He looked human enough, but it was hard to tell. He vaguely reminded her of the Doctor, except that this bloke’s hair was sandy blonde and lay flatter against his head. His green eyes popped with the outfit he had on - a truly garish light green getup with several decorative belts. Overall, he was quite handsome, especially because of some fantastic cheekbones.  
  
“Yeah?” she said warily.  
  
“I was just wondering - you look lost. Is everything alright?”  
  
“Yeah. Sort of. Thanks.”  
  
The young man looked a little worried. “Not to bother you, but you should really be more careful. There’s been some murmurs of a pirate attack.”  
  
“Pirates?”  
  
“All these humans and aliens, mellowed out by new fashion drugs? It’s practically a homing beacon for them. Are you alone here?”  
  
Rose looked about again, but seemed to have well and truly lost the Doctor in the crush. “For now, I suppose I am. What’s your name?”  
  
“For tonight? I’m Havana Julep.” He winked at her and she laughed in disbelief. “I can’t give out my real name just yet. Don’t want my stage reputation tarnished by something like that.”  
  
“Is it bad?” Rose teased back, enjoying the outright flirting and grateful to take her mind off of losing the Doctor for the moment.  
  
“Oh, you know, nothing embarrassing. But not quite as impressive.”  
  
“You remind me of my friend,” Rose told him. “Wherever he's gotten himself to.”  
  
Havana jerked his thumb toward the stage with a little smile. “How about a tour of the facilities? You’ll get VIP treatment as long as you’re with me,” he joked.  
  
Rose bit her nail. “Oh yeah? You the main event tonight, then?”  
  
He flushed - Rose had to admit, he was a rather endearing fellow - and shrugged. “I wouldn’t say I’m up there with the greats, but I’m the first performer tonight, yes.”  
  
She grinned and offered her elbow. “Well then. Lead the way!”  
  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reunited and it feels so good...

 

“There used to be a plant on Earth called mint - they’d make a drink called a mint julep. And I found Havana in an Old Earth atlas. Loads of artists from the 20th century would make up names. Did you know, there was even a bloke called Ziggy Stardust? He was the first alien performer on Earth. Only made one album though, which is a shame. I found his record in the archives.”  
  
Rose let Havana gush about his findings, stifling giggles. “Amazing, yeah,” she said when he broke for air. “So how long have you been doing this whole thing? The performing and everything.”  
  
He colored. “Well, I’ve never actually performed for this many people before. I’m- well, I’m a scholar, you could say. I’ve got a degree in Earth Culture.”  
  
She smiled, unable to help herself. “Why’d you decide to go into that?”  
  
He grinned back. “I was browsing the archives back in school and I came across the Beatles. It just sort of clicked - I just knew I wanted to devote the rest of my life to it.” He sighed forcefully, frustration straining his voice. “A lot of people think it’s frivolous, but the way I see it, plenty of scholars spend their whole lives on Old Earth masters like Dickens and Shakespeare; what’s the difference?”  
  
Rose nodded emphatically and rested a hand on Havana’s upper arm. “I think you’re right. Stuff like that shouldn’t be lost in time. What you’re doing is just so, completely important.”  
  
Havana looked startled. “You really think so?” he asked, searching her eyes intently.  
  
“You have no idea,” she told him with a faint laugh.  
  
Something seemed to twig in Havana’s mind and his face lit up. He clasped her hand in both of his. “Rose, would you like to go up on stage with me?”  
  
“Oh- well.” Biting her lip, Rose’s eyes flickered down. “I don’t know if you’d really want me singing in front of thousands of people… might make you a bit less reputable.”  
  
“Nonsense,” he said firmly. “As long as you have the emotion behind it, it doesn’t matter how hideous your voice is-” he flashed her a little smile “-the audience will love you. Plus,” he added, “most everyone is so completely smashed already. They wouldn’t be able to tell the difference between Frank Sinatra and a dying Kimbrian goat.”  
  
“Alright, you’ve convinced me!” Rose laughed. “What’s the set list?”  
  
“Well, we’re starting with a few classics from the 20th century. Then we’ll sing a few newer songs, hits from the past couple of years, and back to the classics.”  
  
“I’m not so much a fan of newer music - think I can just hang out with the backup dancers for those songs?”  
  
Havana chuckled. “No problem. I can have Giulia teach you a the dances. Unfortunately, I do have to make sure everything goes smoothly up until the show starts, so I won’t see you until after the show.”

"That's show biz for you," Rose quipped, waving it away when he entirely failed to understand. "Nevermind."

  
—--------------------------

 

The Doctor felt like slapping himself upside the head. After all that talk of not letting him out of her sight, the first thing he did was lose Rose in the crowd. It was completely his fault, and he would readily take the blame once he found her - his ego could probably take the blow, he thought wryly.  
  
Without Rose, the VIP boxes he’d reserved (okay, so maybe they weren’t _reserved_ as much as _guaranteed_ with the help of the psychic paper) were essentially pointless. As soon as he’d lost her, he’d given that idea up. Knowing Rose, she’d probably somehow get better seats than him. Or get kidnapped.  
  
Trying not to think of any of the bad things that could be happening to her, he decided instead to focus on scanning the crowd. In retrospect, stopping dead in the middle of a current of people to hold out a small bit of tech was probably also a remarkably stupid thing to do. The screwdriver was gone, rolled under the feet of a thousand people and likely crushed to bits. He cursed and shoved his hands in his pockets.  
  
The noise around him seemed to get exponentially louder all of the sudden, cheering and whooping people all changing direction at the same time and jostling him into nearly losing his balance. The show was starting, it seemed.  
  
Everything went very quiet at once, the aliens and humans around him hushing in unison. He pushed to the front of the crowd to see the stage- who could possibly be up there that would capture their attention so thoroughly-  
  
His jaw dropped.  
  
Rose Tyler, clad in spangles and a gaudy fringed coat and skintight black hotpants, had effectively silenced an entire stadium full of drugged-up creatures. And, frankly, no wonder.  
  
There was a bloke up there too, a darker blonde with much less great hair than the Doctor, and a wireless guitar strapped to his chest. He shouted to the audience, his voice amplified by a voice chip by the looks of it.  
  
The bloke looked to Rose and nodded, counting down unsubtly. Her voice rang out through the stadium on the first note, of all things, the Black Eyed Peas. The Doctor’s lips twitched in amusement at the choice of song, but his eyes were riveted to her every little shimmy. Her voice, he had to admit, was captivating. Sensual and rich, and just the right side of husky. He could easily listen to her sing for hours.  
  
He should have known that she would get mixed up in the festivities. He relaxed and settled in to watch her impersonate Fergie.  
  
The set went on for the next half-hour, the bloke and Rose performing a medley of songs, including some Beatles, some Led Zeppelin, and, oddly, a Destiny’s Child tune. For the last ten minutes, Rose retreated with the rest of the background dancers (all wearing the same outfit as her) and let the guitar player and his bassist duet some of the songs from the 38th and 39th century that Rose wouldn’t know.  
  
Finally, the show was over, and a deafening roar went up from the crowd. The sandy-haired bloke called Rose to the front to take a bow with him before they both disappeared off the crystalline stage.  
  
—  
  
The Doctor normally prided himself on his ability to talk his way into anything. He was making no headway with these two stubborn, meatheaded, bodyguards standing in front of the musician’s tent.  
  
He had devolved to whin- no, a _persuasive lilt_ to reason with them. “My friend was just up there performing, Rose Tyler. You must know her, she had to come through here. The blonde? Anything?” His hopes sank as the bouncer just stared, unimpressed, through him.   
  
The black flaps of the tent parted and Rose exited to greet him. After his initial eagerness to see her, he was a little taken aback at her attire. She’d gotten rid of that awful coat, and by doing so revealed the spangly silver top as little more than a strip of cloth wrapped round her chest. He wasn’t sure why, but he thought she might have changed back into that equally maddening denim skirt of hers. The Doctor wondered, briefly, if it was possible to get an aneurysm from sheer sexual frustration. If anyone could cause that in a Time Lord, it would be Rose Tyler.  
  
She grabbed his hand. “C’mon in!” At the guard’s skeptical glare, Rose reassured him. “It’s fine, I promise. He’s with me and Havana.”  
  
Grudgingly, the guard let him pass. He let Rose lead him through the tent. When they reached a lounge area, she bounced onto one of the inflatable couches surrounding a low table filled with nibbles.  
  
The Doctor sat down beside her, careful not to disrupt the precarious balance of the flimsy couch. “I’m almost afraid to ask, but how in the world did you end up performing?” He reached over and grabbed two canapés from the spread.  
  
Rose lit up when he handed her one. She held it close to her mouth as she replied, “It’s not a very interesting story.” Seconds after she took a delicate bite of the wafer, the Doctor’s hand shot out to catch the toppings that tumbled off. “Sorry,” she mumbled around the food. She swallowed and grabbed a napkin.  
  
“Not a problem,” he said with a shrug, wiping his hand off. “Good?”  
  
“Mmm,” she hummed and quickly ate the rest. “Yours?”  
  
“Oh, delicious,” he agreed, watching Rose lick her lips.  
  
Havana burst in, his presence immediately energizing the room. “Rose, there you are! Oh, hello. Is this your friend?” he asked her innocuously.  
  
They both stood in perfect sync. Rose grinned up at the Doctor impishly. “Yeah. This is the Doctor. Doctor, well, you know.”  
  
“Havana Julep,” he said, grasping the Doctor’s hand and shaking. “Pleasure.” The Doctor’s eyebrow lifted a fraction at the other man’s grip. His tone was jovial enough, but his eyes seemed to be sizing the two of them up.  
  
Rose intervened before the staring match could begin in earnest.  
  
“I think I’m still rushing off adrenaline,” she said with a breathless laugh. “That was brilliant!”  
  
Havana broke eye contact with the Doctor to positively shine at her. “ _You_ were brilliant, Rose.”  
  
The Doctor set his jaw as a snippet of conversation from long ago drifted through his mind. _“…captain envy…”_  
  
“Black Eyed Peas?” he asked, doing his best to sound unimpressed. “Isn’t this concert supposed to celebrate the 20th century? That song first hit the charts in 2004.”  
  
Havana looked taken aback. “Well, yes, but most of the audience wouldn’t be able to tell you that. I figured the message was appropriate.”  
  
Rose shot him a look and he caved. “It was well done,” he assented. “Though I wouldn’t have relied so heavily on the automatic keyboard.”  
  
Havana just smiled - a little too smugly, really - and said, “Well Doctor, when you call the shots, you can do whatever you like.”  
  
He managed to hold back a snort.  
  
Rose elbowed the Doctor. “Rude,” she whispered. “Where are the rest of the dancers?” she asked Havana in a louder voice.  
  
“Oh, they’re free to enjoy the festival.” Havana looked as if he just remembered something and muttered a curse under his breath.  
  
Rose started forward. “Something wrong?  
  
“I’ve just got to go make sure the lights are set up properly for the next performance. Make yourselves at home, I won’t be ten minutes.” With that, Havana slipped out of the tent.  
  
“I thought you’d stopped picking up boyfriends a long time ago,” the Doctor remarked, quirking a brow.  
  
“I thought you’d stopped pretending you weren’t jealous a long time ago,” Rose sniffed. “And actually, he picked me up. Not to mention, if it wasn’t for Havana, you wouldn’t have known where to look for me.”  
  
He opened his mouth to reply, but she was right, after all. His mouth closed with a click and his breath whooshed out. “Okay, fair point.”  
  
Rose sidled closer. “So, what did you think?” Her tongue rested neatly between her teeth. His eyes zeroed in on the sliver of pink.  
  
“Think of what?” he asked, deliberately teasing her - the way she was teasing him.  
  
“Of the routine. Y’know. The dancing.” She actually acted out a few of the moves from the performance, including some hip movements that were sure to follow him into his dreams. Or, possibly, nightmares. She collapsed into peals of laughter. “God, how mad is that? I danced onstage at Woodstock!”  
  
The Doctor felt his desire melt into something that terrified him even more. He smiled gently despite himself. “I’m glad you’re having fun.”  
  
“I really am,” she told him earnestly, her eyes practically glittering. “Thank you, Doctor.”  
  
This was a stupendously bad idea. He knew it down to his very core. But the way she clung to his arms, the way her gaze flickered down to his lips, _that outfit_ ; it was more than any mere man could take. The fact that he was not a mere man, and in fact a Time Lord, made no difference.  
  
There were so many hundreds of times he had wanted to do this in the past, but the desire had never been this intense before. Maybe it was the heavy fog of drugs in the air - not that he would have been affected, unless he wanted to be, of course. It could have been the primal jealousy he felt at the way thousands of male gazes had been allowed to rake down Rose’s body onstage; the way Havana had been allowed to touch her in front of them all. Perhaps it was the way Rose seemed to be urging him on, provoking him into taking that first step towards a more intimate relationship.  
  
Maybe it was something softer, more shimmering.  
  
Whatever the reason, he kissed her.  
  
Rose’s fingers first tightened on his biceps in surprise, but once she caught the rhythm, reached up to card through his hair. When he shuddered at her nails at the back of his neck, he felt her begin to smile. Surprisingly, he was completely fine with letting her take the upper hand. He’d thought, had this ever come to pass, that he’d like to be the one in charge, but Rose clearly knew exactly what she wanted; who was he to deny her that?  
  
A hopelessly besotted Time Lord, his brain supplied. Rose, clever Rose, somehow must have sensed this and helped shut his brain up by sliding her nails directly up the back of his shirt. He arched away from her hands, bringing their bodies together.  
  
Her breath from her nose was hot against his cheek, her lips scorching and soft as she moulded around his own mouth. All too soon, she pulled away gently, almost unwillingly.  
  
“Not complaining,” she panted, pulling some hair from where it stuck in her lipgloss, “But what brought that on?”  
  
The Doctor’s mouth fell open, but no words came out. He was actually _panting_ — or breathing a bit faster, anyway. With every passing second of silence, he saw the light in Rose’s eyes dim and her smile wane. He ran a hand through his hair and tried to come up with something — _anything_ —  
  
“I wanted to?” Was that really his voice, all high pitched and squeaky? And now Rose was hurt _and_ looking at him like he was going mad. He cleared his throat and instinctually took her hand, grounding himself. “Rose, I-”  
  
The whole ground shook violently, unexpectedly, and the deafening roar of engines filled the air, soon followed by screams. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know it took awhile. Much longer than I'd hoped. And I also know I'm evil for ending on a cliffhanger, that one in particular. Chapter three will be up soon - I'm terribly sorry for the wait!


End file.
